I never used to cry. I mean, I cried in my life all the time--way too much. But movies? Books? The whole sentimentality thing? Or public grief? Not me. I didn't cry when Deborah Winger died in that movie--or was it Shirley Maclaine who died? I didn't even cry at real-life funerals. If you were supposed to cry, I didn't.
But lately? I think I'm getting old. I'm becoming a machine o' tears. I cried when my friend told me about her friend who died. I have cried at the last two bat mitzvahs I've gone to. I even got wet eyes (yes, Dawn, I'm outing myself to the world) during Gabriella and Troy's final duet in HSM 3. I KNOW. Pathetic.
But you know when I'm pretty sure I'm going to cry, and be proud of it. When I vote for Obama. Even though I haven't been his biggest fan. Even though I don't think he's going to save the world and make us live happily ever after.
The idea that I am going to vote for a liberal Black man for president--and that he might very well win--I mean, just typing the words makes me almost start to cry.